Sunday, 24 January 2016

don't turn around

Kitty leaned back against the wall, away from the crowd. The guy was on his knees now, his eyes wide with anticipation, his chest pumping up and down, the excitement plain all over him. John walked over the small stage and with each step, he slid his hand up and down his cock, readying himself.
Kitty took a sharp breath in as the burst of heat rushed through her. She could almost feel the glistening tip of John's cock as he slid it between the man's lips - she could almost taste the juices -
"Don't turn around," said a voice behind her.
She raised one eyebrow, not recognising the new man's voice, but she knew the rules of the club. She held out her wrist, showing him the tag John had tied there.
The man chuckled. Reaching around her, he held out a long pink ribbon. Her ribbon.
The guy on the stage leaned into John, taking him deep into the back of his throat. Kitty heard herself moan as John leant into the man's mouth, thrusting, gripping his head. Someone in the room called out but Kitty didn't hear what they said. To her left, a couple were already hard at it, the moment too much to resist, but even with the ribbon there in front of her, Kitty couldn't take her eyes off John.
Suddenly, he looked up, peering over the crowd. Scanning the faces below him, he stopped on hers. She smiled, and as she met his eyes, she let her tongue trace her lips. He pulled back from the man on his cock, just enough to let him know he wasn't going to come yet. The man turned his head, taking John's balls into his mouth, closing his eyes, but John never looked away from Kitty. He raised his chin and gestured very slightly with his head, and Kitty felt the familiar tug of the pink ribbon about her wrist. Her cheeks flushed and she looked up through her lashes, but she didn't turn away. She let herself be guided forward two paces and the man stepped in behind her. He ran his hands over her body, over her hips, then under her short skirt. As John watched, Kitty felt the man's fingers rise up the inside of her legs, probing, touching. She let out a cry, but she couldn't hide how wet she was, how much she needed to come.
John guided the man's mouth back to his cock and without taking his eye's from Kitty's, he started to fuck the man's mouth, hard. Kitty felt her own lips bruise as she watched. She felt the rise in her belly, felt the burn, the wonderful heat in the very depths of her womb, but the fingers on her cunt were not enough.
Finally looking up to the low wooden ceiling, John filled the man's mouth. With each thrust, Kitty could taste his cum on her tongue, but even as she squirmed, even as the fingers found her clit, it wasn't enough. She pushed back, needing more, and the man behind her chuckled.
"This way," he said, taking her hand. "Close your eyes."
With one final look up at the stage to where the man was cleaning John with his tongue, lapping him up, Kitty closed her eyes and let herself be led away.